The Dream Extract
by oliver-kahn88
Summary: It's an extract from a story I'm writing, please, some kind of feedback, any kind would be great.


The Dream  
  
Sean Brook, a tall, dark haired, pale faced, blue-eyed man lay in his bed on a cold, rainy Saturday evening. He was restless that night. His metronome ticked away the time, second after second. He tried to follow the ticking yet was unable to fall asleep. He played soothing, classical music, hoping to ease himself into a deep sleep. Nothing was working that night and he didn't understand why. He resorted to his old methods of when he was a boy. He began counting sheep to the rhythm of his metronome. "One sheep, two sheep, three sheep..." he counted on without any end in sight. His heart beat rhythmically to the sound of his voice. Slowly, he eased himself into his long awaited slumber.  
  
As soon as his eyes shut, his body was no longer under his control. It was as if he was pulled into some sort of vortex, one without a beginning or end. In that "vortex", he experienced inexplicable emotions, indescribable pain, yet he felt as though he belonged there. As his body drifted over what seemed to be the ground, faces began to appear. Faces of little children as they were working, slaving to put food in their parent's mouths.  
  
Sean suddenly felt a feeling of emptiness. He wanted to help the children, take them away from the wretched place, yet he knew he couldn't. A gravitational force pulled Sean towards the children. Their body's moved to the beat of the drums. "One beat, two beat, three beat..." As he got closer, he began feeling the children's pain, the manual labor they had to endure. It was too much for him. He wanted to wake from this dream, yet he couldn't. His lifeless body was swung to what seemed to be the other side of the world.  
  
There, painted in black was a silhouette of a tall, dark man. The man peered into Sean's eyes as though he was looking for something inside his soul. Sean felt as though his body was being torn apart. Without saying a word, Sean understood what the man wanted to say. As the man was appearing out of the shadows, Sean awoke.  
  
As he stood up, he realized that he was no longer in his bed. He felt blood pulsating through his veins. He was in a black, zippered bag. He wanted to listen but was unable to hear. He wanted to touch but was unable to feel. He wanted to scream but was unable to speak. He didn't understand why, or where he was. As he lay there, he began recanting "one sheep, two sheep, three sheep..." in an attempt to calm himself. That didn't last very long. In his mind, he was panicking; he wanted to leave that place. "Where am I?" he thought. And to his surprise, someone answered. It was a familiar voice. He traced it back to the man, the silhouette. He didn't understand how he knew that it was he, it was a feeling, and a feeling he put all of his confidence in. "Why am I here?" He asked himself. The silhouette looked into the Sean's eyes again. Sean found it strange. It was as though Sean hid a whole new world behind his eyes. Once again, Sean was burning up inside. The silhouette took one last look at him, smiled and said, "You're not ready... yet." Sean's body was pulled once again through an, oh so familiar terrain.  
  
Suddenly, he awoke in his bed, paramedics standing over him. "Welcome back" they said. Sean glanced to his left and to his right for any sign of that mysterious man. Was he awake? Was it still a dream? Sean didn't understand and as far as he was concerned, didn't want to.  
  
Who was that man? What did he want with Sean? Unanswered questions. He wanted to know, not because he wanted to, but because he knew he had to find out. This wasn't but a dream, it wouldn't stop there, and he found that out as soon as the paramedics left him.  
  
It was 3 o'clock in the morning at the time, and after that severe shock, he couldn't find the means to sleep. He sat awake on his bed, starring at his Rolex wristwatch, counting down the minutes to when the sun would rise.  
  
That morning, the sun never rose. He found himself entangled in the era of eternal darkness. As he prayed for the sun to rise to bring fourth a new day, a new beginning, his prayers remained unanswered. It was now 7:30 AM but the sky remained a black color. No sign of light to be seen, at least for him. As he starred to the east, waiting for any gleam of light, men appeared. Men laughing, sitting at the table, having a few drinks together. Sean felt weak, yet he found the strength to get up and walk towards them, hoping to find help.  
  
As he pulled himself up, someone or something pushed him into the wall. He stood on the wall, unable to fall, see or scream. All he had to keep his hope alive was the mental picture of those men, those men sitting at the table starring at their empty glasses, calling for refills. He heard them, screaming out to the waitress "Hey, you fucking whore! I've asked you five times to get me a refill!" The men were noticeably intoxicated since they were laughing for absolutely no reason. Finally, Sean heard liquid pour into their glasses. The men gave the waitress a dirty stare, one of disgust and hatred. How did he know they were? He couldn't see. He couldn't speak. He could feel. He felt the hatred being emitted from their eyes. It was a soothing lullaby for him. Suddenly, there was no sound. It was as though the entire world was put on mute, even if only for that second.  
  
He heard footsteps, rhythmic footsteps. "One, two, three, four, one, two, three, four..." he counted. With each passing step, a cold got closer and closer. Not one that was uncomfortable, nor unwelcome. 


End file.
